


Over and Overture

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Series: Don't Let's Start [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: And the fallout thereof, Gen, Kuron is Shiro as far as he's concerned and I have Arguments and Proof and I will win, Realization, Season/Series 03, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-11 23:41:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11725008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: Since Shiro returned, something has been... off about him.  But he deals with it, just like he's dealt with everything else.  Until the problems begin to build.





	1. I've Got a Weak Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Likely I'll be treating this as my singular response to S3. Is this canon? I dunno. Probably not. But it's how I can accept the break between S3 and S4. It helped me to contextualize it, and I hope this helps someone else to.
> 
> Next chapter will be posted on Wednesday

It was the little things, really.

Shiro frowned, resting his head on his knees as he stared at the small desk against the far wall.

Being annoyed at it didn’t put the things back where he thought they should be.

Since his capture, Shiro had memory problems. He remembered hitting his head in the escape, and he knew, vaguely, that PTSD could cause recall issues. Over time, he’d grown used to memories that would suddenly overtake him, or would not be there when he reached for them.

But those were chunks of time, or specific instances from his year as a prisoner. Not-

Not like this.

Shiro didn’t know where his pens were in that desk. He didn’t know if he had notebooks in it or just a pad - or multiple, maybe? He didn’t remember leaving the notes chicken-scratched into the top documents, didn’t know what he’d meant by the words ‘check Scri. Q’.

This was the desk of a stranger. But no one else would have come in here and messed with his notes, right? There was nothing important here, as far as Shiro could tell.

He must have spent hours in front of this desk. Shiro knew that, but in a distant way, like he’d watched it in a montage in a movie.

Why?

Shiro had memory problems after the first capture. It stood to reason he’d have more after the second. But those memories made sense for him to forget, if in an abstract way. Why would he have forgotten sitting at his desk?

No answer manifested. Instead, Shiro’s mind started to wander, onto pressing topics - he might not be a paladin now, but he could still help them oversee training. Better, maybe, now that he was watching from the observation window instead of on the ground with them.

There was a pang at that, but Shiro ignored it. The team was good. The team was  _ good,  _ actually. They’d come together fast, though he’d been told of their rocky start.

Shiro had known for a long time he wasn’t Black’s true paladin, anyway. Any port in a storm, and for all their bonding, he’d known it couldn’t last. Why would he think otherwise? Zarkon had easily wrested control from him the first time, and he’d only won the battle on the astral plane because Zarkon threw the bond away. Not through any qualities Shiro possessed.

That in mind, Shiro laid down in bed, his fingers carding through his hair. He’d done a poor job, this time. The bangs were too short, sticking up farther, and he’d made the undercut too long, now nearly indistinguishable from the rest.

He’d done this a dozen times before. But never with hair so long.

Shiro had cut it thinking he’d be in the field. Thinking he’d still be fighting on the ground with them.

Had he known he’d be staying on the castle, maybe he’d have left it.

Closing his eyes again, Shiro took a deep breath. Training. Training was a better thought. Their close-range combat was still shaky. Better, but they did much better when they were all far apart from each other, which no one could guarantee. That should be the next focus, along with more work on diplomacy.

Shiro let the thoughts fill his head, letting all his worries about the stupid desk drop away. What did it matter? He probably didn’t remember because he hadn’t committed it to memory, that was all.

His head continued to throb until sleep took over.

***

Shiro didn’t dream.

In the morning, he didn’t even glance at the desk. He didn’t think about it at all.

***

“Ta-da!” Hunk said, putting down a bowl of something florescent orange in front of each of them. “It took a while to put this together, but I think I finally got it down. Tell me what you think!” He beamed between them, obviously excited.

Shiro barely glanced over, other than to offer his usual thanks and a flash of a smile. Instead his eyes stayed locked onto the pad, reading over the information again. This was the sum total of everything they’d learned about Lotor, and it was still horrifyingly limited.

Mechanically, he picked up a spoon and started to eat, still not thinking of anything but the information. It had been two weeks since they’d seen hide nor hair of Lotor or his generals. Why?

Shiro continued for a minute, then paused. Something felt strange.

There were no other sounds in the room.

Finally picking his head up, Shiro saw his team- no, the Earthling paladins, all watching him carefully.

Frowning, he glanced down and pulled his shirt out. “Did I spill something on myself?”

“No,” Hunk replied, voice much softer than before. “I just thought you might like the food. Keith said-” He cut himself off. “It might not be right.”

Glancing down at the bowl, Shiro frowned, then looked back up. “It’s good. It always is. Was there supposed to be something significant about it?”

The other three looked at Keith, confused. There was an air of something that wasn’t quite accusatory. Indignant, maybe?

Keith frowned and stabbed his spoon into the bowl, then took a bite. Immediately, his brows drew together. “It’s exactly right. Shiro, what does this taste like to you?”

Taking another mouthful, Shiro shrugged. “Food?” It tasted neutral, mostly. Like the food goo, if it wasn’t bad. Eating it was like eating textured water.

“It’s supposed to taste like mac and cheese,” Pidge informed him, slow and careful like that was supposed to be a huge deal.

Oh. Shiro offered Hunk another smile, this one strained at the edges. “Good job, Hunk.”

He didn’t like the eyes on him. He might not be in perfect shape after his second capture, but no one needed to know that. Shiro was dealing. He’d gotten back to them, and everything else was working out.

Taking his own mouthful, Lance pointed to Keith. “He said it was your favorite, so Hunk figured it’d be a good welcome back.”

“I know it took a while,” Hunk apologized. “It was hard to find something with the right texture as pasta.”

Looking down at the bowl again, Shiro’s brow furrowed.

Mac and cheese was his favorite? That didn’t sound wrong. Shiro knew he’d eaten a lot of it. But it was-

Shiro’s mind wandered, thoughts of the notes on Lotor pushing themselves forward. There were more important things to think about than his favorite food. What did it matter?

“Honestly, most everything has tasted the same to me for a while,” Shiro admitted. “Thank you for trying, Hunk. I appreciate the welcome, and the effort you put in. But it’s really not necessary.”

Brows up, Pidge looked him over. “You can’t taste anything?”

Shiro shrugged, looking back at the pad. “Yeah. I didn’t think about it, honestly.”

“Why not?” Hunk asked, frowning. “Taste is amazing. And losing it can be the sign of… you know, some kind of damage.”

Glancing up again, Shiro’s brows jumped. “The scans didn’t find anything significant. And really, it’s not a big deal. It’ll come back on it’s own, probably. We don’t know what they did to me this time.”

“We really don’t,” Lance muttered, growing worried. “If you talk to Coran-”

Shiro’s head snapped up, irritation suddenly rising in him. “I’m fine. Honestly. I don’t care about taste. I’d like to focus on this.”

The flat tone silenced them. Shiro pressed his lips thin, annoyed with the attention. What did it matter? His sense of taste hadn’t done him any favors. There was no reason for anyone to think he was more damaged than they knew.

So there.

Slowly, the clatter of spoons on dishes started up again. There was still conversation, but it was low voiced, and never to him. Probably to let him concentrate.

Good.

When he was finished, Shiro put his plate on one of the floating trays to take back to the kitchen and wash. He left without giving them a second glance, still hoping they’d just forget all about it.

Once he was out of the kitchen, the irritation remained, but he completely lost himself in the notes and plans.

***

Shiro didn’t think about his sense of taste again. When Hunk shot him mournful looks at dinner, he praised the meal he ate mechanically. He wondered what was bothering Hunk, but assumed if it was important enough, he’d say something.

***

Training had gone well. Shiro never expected less from this group. They improved at terrifying speeds, and he wondered if this was what it was like with the original paladins. Coran’s story had told them about how those five had become so powerful, and it contrasted starkly with how the paladins had started under his command.

This made more sense.

Shiro was satisfied. But there was still a bubble of something churning in his gut, uncomfortably hot.

Nausea, probably. His headache had never really gone away. By now, Shiro was just learning to live with it. Coran had never found a cause, and no meds seemed to make a dent in it.

Shiro’s thoughts wandered, running back over the results of their training to try to figure out where to go next. As he came out of the stairway to the observation deck, he nearly walked into someone.

“Woah, there,” Lance said, stepping back with his hands up. “Sorry, bad place to wait. You could steamroll a guy, you know.”

“No, I’m sorry. I should have been looking where I was going.” Shiro cracked a smile for him. “Were you waiting for me?”

Lance nodded, small and nervous. It was odd to see his expression so serious outside of a fight. “Yeah. Can we talk? Just for a few minutes.”

Racking his brain for what could be bothering Lance, Shiro found nothing. Maybe he’d had an argument with someone on the team. “Of course? Here or somewhere else?”

Lance glanced back. Just about everyone else was heading out the door to go clean up. “Here’s fine,” he replied. “It’s only take a few minutes. It’s about Keith.”

“Keith?” Shiro’s brows jumped, and nerves rolled through his stomach, making it churn harder. “Are you fighting again? Is something wrong?”

For some reason, the questions seemed to relax Lance. “No. I mean, not more than the usual. We’re allowed to bicker, it’s our thing. It’s about you. You keep… during training, you keep speaking up about all his decisions. During that last mission, too. It’s- I dunno, are you mad at Keith for something?”

Shiro froze, dismay making his limbs feel numb. “No. Of course not. I haven’t been-”

But Shiro paused and thought back. It was- it was  _ hard, _ for some reason. Remembering the individual times he’d spoken up during training didn’t quite want to match up.

His thoughts wandered, back to training and defeating Lotor-

Lance’s serious expression dragged him back.

“You’re right,” Shiro replied, voice small. “I have been hard on him. It’s not that I’m mad at him.” Not at Keith. Not at the Black Lion. But Shiro couldn’t deny the sting of being told he wasn’t good enough. He’d never taken it well. That was what had put him on the seat to Kerberos. But this time, Shiro had to nod and step back.

Lips thin, Lance nodded. “Okay, but you need to let up.”

_ No. _ The denial was instant and strong, running through Shiro like a soundwave. He scrambled, confused by the the thought, until he found an answer. “I need to be hard on Keith. I’m sorry, it’s not personal, but he’s leading you now. His choices are life and death. I can’t just sit around and let any bad calls happen.”

“Training isn’t life or death,” Lance replied. “And Keith’s way of doing things has worked out really well sometimes. Not every time, don’t get me wrong. I’m never going to say that. But usually he figures it out. And he can’t do that with you telling him he’s wrong every time he says something.”

Lance was right. Lance was absolutely right. But Shiro couldn’t mesh that with the  _ need _ to step in and help. What if Keith made a mistake from inexperience and someone got hurt?

Shiro had been so sure this was the right call. He’d known Keith’s instincts would help, not hurt.

But Shiro didn’t remember exactly what he’d been thinking. Those two conversations were shadows, filled in mostly by his and Keith’s conversations later. He hadn’t remembered at all until Keith had mentioned it the first time.

Shiro’s thoughts wandered, back to Lance and his too-serious expression. “You’re right. You are. I’ll talk to Keith.” He managed another smile, this one even more shaky than the last. “I’m um- I’m not very good at letting things go. I’m used to keeping an eye on all of you. It’s a hard habit to break.”

It really was. Shiro  _ worried. _ And standing around on that deck, he couldn’t help speaking up. He had experience, and how did he know Keith was thinking of everything he was?

Shiro had always been a backseat driver. This was just the latest extension of it.

“I know. And you think you’re right all the time,” Lance added, eyes finally crinkling in the corners. “We’d kind of figured that out about you. I know you don’t mean any harm, I just wanted to let you know you were doing it. And you should talk to Keith. I don’t think he sees why.”

Oh. Shiro’s stomach plummeted, hard enough that he swallowed against a gag. Yeah. He could see that. He was surprised he hadn’t seen it before.

Reaching out, Shiro squeezed Lance’s shoulder. “Thanks. You’re doing a great job at being second in command.”

Lance suddenly beamed like the sun rising. “I’m trying. I get it, you know? I’m not good at letting things go either. But you’re learning.” He nudged Shiro’s arm, friendly and easy. “Go get em, Tiger.”

“Is that a reference?” Shiro asked, squinting at Lance. “I don’t know where it’s from.”

“Spider-man?” Lance tried, then sighed. “Never mind, forget it. Go talk to Keith, alright.”

Shiro shook his head, but his smile was soft and real. “Good plan. I’ll catch him when he’s washed up. Which is where you should be going. That armor doesn’t hide all sweat smells, you know.”

Groaning dramatically, Lance sighed. “Oh, I know. I’m in the middle of us all. Alright, see you later, Shiro.”

Waving, Shiro waited for Lance to scamper out.

Then he turned, walked into the bathroom, and was sick in the toilet. His stomach continued to twist and turn anxiously, and his head pounded like every inch of blood was trying to force it’s way into his brain and then out.

After, he left, and his thoughts wandered.

Shiro left, nose in a tablet, and all thoughts of talking to Keith drained away.

***

That afternoon, Keith was avoiding him.

Shiro might not have noticed, except he knew what Keith looked like when he was upset. It was rarely, if ever, really pointed at him. When they fought, they tended to have it out, not let it burn. With everything else in the world, sure, but not with each other.

This was different. And it worried him.

So when Keith walked past Shiro’s room that night, he pounced on the opportunity. “Hey. Keith?”

There was a long pause, as if Keith were contemplating ignoring the call.

That hurt more than Shiro had known it would.

But Keith turned around and stepped into the door frame- but no further. “Hey.”

“Can we talk?” Shiro asked, voice gentling like he was talking to a spooked animal.

Keith hesitated again, then nodded. “Alright.” He stepped into Shiro’s room like it was foreign to him, and stood by the bed instead of sitting down. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I was wonder what I’d done to upset you,” Shiro replied. “I hadn’t realized I’d done it, but I’d rather talk about it than have you keep avoiding me.”

Freezing, Keith looked at Shiro like he’d lost his mind. “You want to know why  _ I’m  _ mad at  _ you?” _

Shiro stared back, confused by the tone. “Yes.”

“I’m avoiding you because you’re mad at me!” Keith shot back, voice rising indignantly. “You’ve been snapping at me for everything. No matter what I do, it’s the wrong call. You don’t talk to me outside of training. You’re always looking at your pad instead of at me.”

Staring back at him, Shiro shook his head, mouth hanging open. “I- no. I never-”

Thinking back, Shiro couldn’t really remember having one on one conversations with anyone on the team. Maybe once or twice during meals when he’d be expected to converse. He’d been reading and re-reading and  _ re-reading _ instead.

Because talking to them hurt. Already, his head was pounding harder.

Why-

Shiro’s mind wandered, but Keith’s stricken expression pulled him back. “I’m not mad. I’m adjusting. I need to catch up to where you all are. And I’ve been- I’ve been hard on you. It’s not out of anger, I promise. I’m not upset at you. I’m proud, I really am. I wanted this for you. Keith, but I’m worried. I can’t be out there with you. I can’t help anymore. I’m stuck on the bridge and all I can do is watch and be helpless. I can’t even help with the castle. So- well, I guess you get the brunt of it. I’m sorry.”

Nodding, Keith didn’t pick his head up. “You worry because I’m not doing it right, and-”

“I worry because you’re not doing it like me. You’re not my cl-”

Shiro’s mind became static.

Finally, Keith looked up. “You always make the right call.”

“If I’ve made you feel like you’re bad at leading, obviously not,” Shiro replied. He blinked rapidly, scrambling to remember what he’d been trying to stay. The static got louder.

Shiro’s head  _ throbbed. _

Giving up for now, Shiro held out an arm. “Keith, come here, please.”

Inch by inch, Keith moved over and sat down. It wasn’t until Shiro wrapped an arm around his shoulders that he relaxed and leaned into it. “I’m sorry. You’re not a screw-up. You’re learning, and you can do this. The lion wouldn’t have picked you if you couldn’t. If I was better at this, the lion wouldn’t have picked you.”

“You are better at this,” Keith replied, voice thick. “I don’t know how you do it. I’m so  _ tired, _ Shiro.”

That made Shiro outright laugh. If there was one thing he remembered clearly, it was the exhaustion. “I was too. I am now. That’s part of leadership, buddy. But you’re doing a fine job. You had a rough start, but everyone wouldn’t follow you if you weren’t doing a good job.”

“They follow you,” Keith replied. “When you say something, everyone is on your side. How am I not wrong?”

“Habit,” Shiro replied. “They’re used to my way. It makes sense to everyone. You come from a different perspective, so you have different solutions. That doesn’t make them wrong, it just means it’s not immediately obvious to everyone what you’re thinking. I’ve never known you to give instructions to get from A to C.”

Keith made a face. “There’s no time to explain in battle.”

Nodding, Shiro leaned against him. Keith was comfortably warm and solid under him, in a way that made his skin feel over sensitive.

How long had it been since Shiro had touched someone with more than his palm?

Had he been greeted? Hugged? Had he wanted those things?

Shiro’s mind went static.

“You’re right,” he replied. “And I’m not helping. I’m sorry about that. You’re good at this. I’m not good at where I am. Remember when I helped teach you tricks?”

Finally, Keith smiled. “Yeah, you didn’t shut up the whole time.”

“Mhmm.” Shiro pressed his forehead to Keith’s temple. “You’re going to be great, Keith. I just want to make sure you get there.”

“Alright,” Keith replied. He finally relaxed all the way, leaning into Shiro almost as much as Shiro was leaning into him. “I get helping during missions. But maybe let up during training?”

“I can do that,” Shiro agreed, smiling softly.

Hadn’t he already-

Hmm, deja vu.

Keith picked his head up, still smiling at Shiro. “Remember the first time we crashed?”

Pausing, Shiro wracked his mind for the instance. He could remember a bunch of crashes, all vague like a shadow puppet show. “Probably, but remind me which one was first? We wiped out a lot.”

Brows drawing together, Keith frowned. “The one where we had to walk the bike back to the Garrison. It barely hovered anymore.”

“Oh!” Yes, Shiro thought he remembered that one. “And you were nervous the whole walk back.”

Keith snorted. “Yeah, because you kept joking about the proper way to kill a person for resources.”

Freezing, Shiro blinked at the wall.

He had?

“It’s a valuable skill,” he managed, forcing the words out even as his headache throbbed.

Looking over his face, Keith frowned. “You alright?”

Shiro managed a smile. “Yeah. Just a headache.”

“Again?”

Snorting, Shiro stared at his feet. “More like since.”

Keith pulled away and out from under Shiro’s arm, then turned to face him. It felt like the first time they’d really seen each other since Shiro was rescued again.

Was that true?

“Are you okay?” Keith asked, sounding more concerned than he had when Shiro had been stuck in his room. “Do you need to get checked out?”

Shiro shook his head. “I did. It’s just… I think it’s just stress.” He closed his eyes. “It keeps happening, Keith. I keep waking up with the Galra and running away. And when I come back, things have changed. It’s an adjustment, that’s all.”

Leaning up, Keith pressed their foreheads together. “Hey, it’s alright. You’re safe.”

For how long?

Why did Shiro feel so heavy?

“I’m home,” Shiro agreed, voice quiet.

This was home. Earth was a distant dream, something he only vaguely knew, but this castle, this place. He knew these halls, knew these people, knew this life. It wasn’t the same, but it was close enough.

This was where Shiro belonged. This was where his heart was.

“You’re home,” Keith repeated, his voice thick with barely contained emotions.

Neither of them moved for a long time. 

***

When Shiro woke, his head still ached. But he remembered the conversation. He was  _ exhausted, _ but he remembered.

If it felt like a victory, he forgot that soon after.

***

After that, Shiro tried to do better.

It was true, that he’d isolated himself. He hadn’t meant to, too lost in his own thoughts and the weight of responsibility again.

It was time to fix that. Shiro didn’t want to be an island in his own home. He didn’t want to be the ghost haunting the castle. These were his friends and family, and he wanted to spend time with them. It was what had driven him home in the first place. It was what he’d missed when he was dying.

Yet, when he’d come back, he’d let himself be buried. Why?

Shiro didn’t have an answer. When he searched for one, there was always another pressing thought instead.

Shiro did have a solution, though. And that was to do what he really wanted- to spend time with his team, even if they weren’t technically his anymore.

So Shiro stepped into Pidge’s lab, sat down in the chair across from her, and smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Pidge muttered back, voice vague. She didn’t look up from her laptop. “Need something?”

“Just checking in,” Shiro replied easily. “I was wondering what you were working on.”

Finally, Pidge looked up. “Yeah? Alright. It’s really nothing fun right now. Just grunt work.”

Shiro smiled back, easier than he had in weeks. There was still thoughts that he should be working on something more important, but Shiro ignored that. There was nothing more important than spending time with his team. This was where he wanted to be, no matter what his head said.

“Anything I can do to help?” He asked.

Pidge considered. “Actually, yeah, you can probably help me out. It’s nothing that hard.”

Smiling again, this time ruefully, Shiro eyed her. “Thanks.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you’re not on my level.” Pidge shot him a playful smirk, then rolled her chair over to sit next to him. She reached out and dragged her laptop over. “This is data we’ve pulled off of bases and enemy ships we’ve fought. I try to scavenge what I can when we have time, and I have a program that does some basic hacking for me when we’re fighting. It’s rudimentary stuff, but sometimes it gets lower level info.”

Shiro’s brows jumped. “That’s brilliant.”

Beaming back, Pidge shrugged. “Well, it hasn’t turned up anything useful yet, but I like to keep the data. And more importantly, I like to keep it in a few places, just in case. Back-ups. So I’ve just been-” Pidge said a word that Shiro heard but didn’t comprehend “- what I’ve got.”

Shiro blinked slowly. His head throbbed. “Run that by me again? I didn’t quite catch it. Just the last part.”

“I’m just making-” Static. Pidge tilted her head. “You know, backing it up?”

“Sorry, just had a moment.” Shiro took a deep breath. “Yeah, I got it. Back-ups.”

Pidge shrugged. “No problem. I talk fast. Think you can do it? Just use the pre-made settings.”

“Sure,” Shiro replied. He reached out for the laptop, then paused.

While his metal hand was totally steady, the natural one was shaking hard.

What?

Pidge looked at them, then up at Shiro. “Are you alright?”

“I thought I was,” Shiro replied carefully. He felt so normal. There were things wrong with him, yes, but he’d been in captivity. Of course there was.

Frowning, Pidge took his natural hand in both of hers, flipping it so it was palm up. “It’s weird to see you without the gloves,” she admitted.

“There wasn’t really a need for them,” Shiro replied.

Running her fingers over the trembling digits, Pidge looked up at him. “Is this just now, or is this how it’s been since you got back? I didn’t notice them shaking, but I wasn’t really looking.”

“Just now, I think,” Shiro said, clenching around her hands and then letting it go. “I hadn’t noticed either.”

“Like your sense of taste?”

….Like his what?

Pidge looked at him, clear-eyed and steady. She wasn’t guessing. She knew he couldn’t taste anything. And thinking back, Shiro couldn’t remember tasting anything either.

How did she know?

How didn’t he know?

“I don’t know,” Shiro replied slowly. His head throbbed, hard enough that his stomach churned and it felt like he’d fall backwards out of the chair. Like he’d float away on the hazy static of his mind.

Suddenly, Pidge was standing, her hands on both his shoulders. “Shiro? Shiro, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” he repeated.

Something was wrong.

Something was wrong and Shiro hadn’t even been noticing. Or he had and he was forgetting.

The headache throbbed harder, and he could  _ hear _ the static in his ears. There was a logical next thought, but whenever he tried to put the puzzle pieces together, the world span and liquefied. He couldn’t think it. He couldn’t  _ think. _

“I need to see Coran,” he finally mumbled.

***

Shiro flinched back hard from the light shining in his eyes. Immediately, his heart started to pound and his breath picked up.

But the threatening flashback never came.

Instead, there was static.

“Apologies, Number One,” Coran said, tone far too cheerful to be real. “Should have warned you better. Sit back up, would you?”

Shiro forced himself back up, aware he was still trembling. This time, he managed to stay still while Coran checked his pupils, though his stomach churned like it wanted to crawl out of him. Several times, he had to swallow against a gag.

“Everything seems to be normal here,” Coran replied. “We should do some more scans to be sure. How badly would you rank the pain?”

“On a scale of one to ten?” Shiro asked. “Um… an 8, I guess?”

Pidge’s brows rose. “Out of headaches?”

“Out of the worst pain I’ve had,” Shiro admitted.

Immediately, Pidge’s expression fell apart. “All this time? Why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t think of it,” Shiro admitted. “The meds didn’t help so I just… never did.”

Coran frowned thoughtfully. “Why not?”

Static.

Shiro blinked at him as the world around him tried to melt away. “Um.”

Stepping back, Coran nodded to Pidge. “Call the others.”

“Why-” Shiro cut himself off, suddenly filled with the urge to do something more important. He should be focusing on their future missions, planning training- it was all so pressing. Why wasn’t he working on it?

Why was it so important?

Static.

There was a murmur of a reply, lost in the pain in Shiro’s head, and then Pidge started to say- something. Her tone was urgent.

Was something wrong?

Shiro forced his eyes open wide and took deep breaths. He needed to fix this. Nothing was more important than that scared note to Pidge’s voice. He’d do anything to get rid of it. Even when he couldn’t hear the words through the static, even when his whole body started to ache like his head. That wasn’t important.

His team’s safety was the most important thing.

“Easy there,” Coran mumbled, close now. His hand came back, holding the back of Shiro’s head to help keep him upright.

Through the strands that were too long.

Shiro had cut his hair so many times before, why had he gotten it wrong this time?

Static.

He-

“Breathe,” Coran ordered, tone like he’d said it before, but Shiro hadn’t heard. Hadn’t registered it. Hadn’t remembered. “Shiro, you need to take deep breaths-”

“What’s going on?” That was Hunk, voice thin with worry. “What’s wrong with Shiro?”

Pidge took a ragged breath. “We think the Galra did something to him this time.”

They did.  _ They did. _

What did they-

Static.

This time, the pain was too much. The static filled his eyes and ears and his head was too light to stay in place. Shiro toppled backwards.

He was out before he hit the metal table.

***

“Do we put him in another pod?”

“It didn’t help the first time.”

“Well, last time it was fixing his leg, right? Maybe this time it’ll help with his head.”

“It should have done both last time. It heals everything, not just certain things.”

“He said the meds aren’t working either.”

“What else are we supposed to do? He’s  _ hurting. _ We can’t just let him stay in pain.”

“There are some other medications we can try.”

Shiro stirred slowly, his brow already furrowed. His head still hurt so much. It was a blinding pain, driven to new heights by each word and the lights above, even through his eyelids.

“He’s waking up,” Someone- Lance? - called.

God, he wished he wasn’t.

Finally, Shiro cracked his eyes open, immediately wincing. Shiro had never been motion sick before, but he’d once took a hit that knocked his inner ear out of whack. This felt an awful lot like that.

He was surrounded by his- by the team. All of them looked strained and worried.

For wha-

No. He knew what. It was just hard to hold onto.

“How are you feeling?” Allura asked gently.

Shiro tried to crack a smile, but it didn’t feel right on his face. “Not great,” he admitted. “Am I sick?”

Everyone looked at each other rather than at Shiro.

“Kind of,” Hunk replied. “We think. A different kind of sick. What do you remember about being with the Galra the second time?”

Immediately, static filled Shiro’s ears. “Um. Not much. Waking up.”

“Who was around?” Keith asked.

Racking his brain, Shiro frowned. “No one, basically. I just got up and walked-” The static got louder.

Why wasn’t-

Should there have-

He wasn’t even restrained-

There was no one-

“I need-” Shiro curled up on himself, swallowing hard. “I’m going to-”

“Oh!” Hunk grabbed a metal bin off the floor and shoved it into Shiro’s chest, just in time for him to lose the fight against his stomach. Ducking his head, Shiro closed his eyes tightly, hating that they were seeing this. It was awful to throw up, and even worse to have an  _ audience. _

It took several minutes for him to stop. Only now did it occur to him that there wasn’t much in his stomach. Shiro hadn’t been eating much recently. There was no drive to, not when he couldn’t taste anything.

Coran gently took the bin away, and Shiro keep his eyes tightly shut, not wanting to see the pity on their faces.

“What now?” He asked, voice a rough croak. His throat burned from being sick for so long.

“We don’t think it’s in your head,” Keith replied. “Coran did all kinds of scans. Which means whatever is hurting you, it’s from something else.”

Where else-

Static. But this time Shiro grit his teeth against it. He fought against the waves, holding his ground as he reached out for an answer just past his fingertips.

Then he caught it. “The arm,” he groaned out. “They did something to the arm.”

“More than that,” Lance pointed out. “Your hair was so long when we got you back. Like you were gone for ages, not a couple of weeks.” He sighed. “We didn’t even think about it. Just let it go.”

It had been. Shiro hadn’t even thought-

Or maybe he had, because the static was already coming to swallow him.

“Cut it off,” Shiro spat out. “Just get it off me.”

There was a pause. “Shiro,” Pidge started, voice very gentle. “It’s not that simple.”

“I don’t care!” Shiro finally looked at them, eyes blazing. “Whatever this is, it’s hurts. And it’s going to hurt you. Why else do it? It’s got to be bad.  _ Cut it off!” _

“Listen to us!” Keith shot back. “We can’t just cut it like that.”

Shiro’s chest blazed with something hot enough to burn through some of the static. “If you don’t, then I’ll go to the kitchen and find something sharp enough,” he told them. “It’s coming off.”

Hunk’s eyes went wide. “Don’t you dare. Shiro, you can’t cut it off. No one can. Do you not-” He grabbed onto a pad and tapped on it, then shoved it in Shrio’s lap. “Look.”

It was an x-ray, kind of. The Altean equivalent. It showed what was obviously his arm, with one third flesh and two thirds metal.

But it wasn’t that simple, like Shiro had always assumed. Pale white bits trailed from his shoulder to the metal arm, branching out as they went.

Nerves. Maybe more. Parts of him were still in the metal arm.

Worse, the arm didn’t stop cleanly at the line on his bicep, the way Shiro had always thought it did. Instead, around the bone, there were metal poles that reached up and curved into his shoulder.

Support beams.

The metal arm went almost to his neck.

Shiro’s breathing picked up faster. “It has to come off,” he muttered. “It needs to. It’ll hurt you, it has to come off.”

“Not yet,” Coran said. “First, we’re going to deactivate it. Not just cuff it, but a complete disconnect. Between Pidge, Hunk and myself, we can do so in a way where we can re-establish it if we need to.”

“No,” Shiro muttered. “I might be able to fix it. It needs to-”

“Shiro!”

The call of his name, desperate and hurt from Keith, utterly stopped him.

Swallowing hard, Keith put a hand on Shiro’s chest. “Stop. Let them do it. Just to see. It’s better than you trying to hack your arm off with a knife, okay? Please, listen to them. Trust us.”

Shiro closed his eyes. Keith was right. He loved them. He trusted them. “Okay. Do it.”

“One second.” Pidge darted off, dragging over a set of tools. “Put your arm down and keep it really still, okay? We don’t want to do damage we don’t mean to.”

Well, they might not want to. Shiro didn’t care. It was the source of the static and the pain and whatever awful idea the Galra had for him. Shiro wanted to open it up and jab a fork in until the whole thing fell apart.

But still, Shiro obeyed. It was obvious they were more clear-headed about this than him.

Within seconds, the casing was popped off, and Hunk took out another took, this one almost like pliers. He took a deep breath, then started to pull.

In that moment, something overtook Shiro, sudden and fierce. He had to stop them. He had to protect the arm. He had to obey-

Just as he started to activate the arm, whatever Hunk was pulling on  _ gave. _

Static.

And then  _ pain. _

Shiro screamed, the kind of pitched, pained cry he’d gave when he’d used the hand to cauterize his leg.

Every worry, every suppressed thought, everything that had slipped his mind, came crashing down in one horrible realization.

“Operation Kuron!” Shiro shoved himself back up, panting and eyes wild. “Operation Kuron. I’m not-”

There was noise, questions, voices. Asking what was wrong, what he was, what was Operation Kuron?

It all hazed under the force of Shiro’s shock and pain.

Swallowing hard, he looked up at them. “I’m a clone.”

That was the word Pidge had used that he couldn’t hear. She’d been cloning the hard drives.

That was the memories that snuck through, until Shiro forgot them again.

That was why his senses were off, his memories were shadowy, why he never even thought to ask for help.

He wasn’t programmed to get help.

He was programmed to hurt. To take the lion, maybe, or to undermine Keith (did they know Keith was in charge? No, they did, Shiro knew it, so they knew it).

Oh, god, poor Keith. He’d been so annoyed and worried, it had egged him on and on, but Shiro had never meant for that- he remembered now, he remembered the feeling, he knew why he’d wanted Keith to lead. He’d be so good at it, so why-

“I’m a clone,” he repeated, breathless with the understanding. “I couldn’t think it. But I’m not the real Shiro. Haggar made me. It had to be her. I es- no. They let me go. They sent me.” That was why there were essentially no guards, and why he could fly away. He’d been allowed to escape.

Noise erupted all around him, chaos as everyone started to speak all at once.

Everyone but Keith. Instead he stalked forward, pulling Shiro in by his shirt.

For one long moment, he looked over Shiro’s face. He took in the wrong hair, the scared eyes, the pale face. All so close, but wrong. Pain flashed through Keith’s eyes, a wound that Shiro had never meant to inflict on him.

Then, Keith’s expression twisted into anger.

“If you’re not Shiro, where is he?” He demanded, pained and desperate like Shiro had tried to strike him.  _ “Where is Shiro?” _

Mouth open, Shiro shook his head. He leaned back from the fury in Keith’s tone, the raw hurt. “I don’t know. I would tell you, I swear I would.”

“Why the hell should we believe you?” Keith snapped out, teeth bared. His eyes were wild as a cornered animal. “The whole time you’ve been here, we stopped looking for him. If you’re a clone, you’re here to cause trouble. Why should I trust  _ anything _ you say?”

Shiro stared back as something in his chest cracked apart.

“I don’t know,” Shiro replied. “But I trust you. You’re my family.”

Keith’s eyes flashed. He let go of Shiro, abrupt enough that he had to catch himself before he fell. “You’re not mine.”

With that, Keith left.

Silence hung heavy in the air.

“Why don’t you tell us what you know?” Allura offered carefully.

Taking a deep breath, Shiro stared at the closed door. The cracks in his chest deepened.

Then he started to talk.


	2. For All The World

Shiro found himself in his room again, wrapped in his blanket.

The static and the headaches were gone, but that didn’t mean much. Not when it had been proven how well Shiro could ignore problems when called upon. No one had asked him to stay here, but Shiro didn’t see any reason not to.

This wasn’t his home.

His home was- that lab, maybe, with the awful purple liquid. It was where he was born, and where he lived for near all of his existence.

Shiro had never been in the castle until he was found.

So why bother coming out? He wasn’t hungry, not with the way his stomach churned. He didn’t want to face anyone. They knew, now, just as he did.

It was all a lie. One Shiro believed with all his heart, but a lie anyway.

He didn’t know his life. Shiro couldn’t have told anyone the name of his parents, or Pidge’s mother’s name. He hadn’t even remembered his own first name.

Shiro’s memories began when the arm had been attached. He remembered more of his original captivity than he had, but nothing before it. Nothing from the beginning.

There were vague thoughts. Memories his original had thought about, if only distantly. Times at the Garrison he’d spoken of fondly with Keith, stories of training for the Kerberos mission with Pidge. Reminiscing over instructors with Lance and Hunk. Small stories about Earth with Coran and Allura. Little conversations that filled in just enough of the gaps that it had looked whole from a distance. But Shiro didn’t remember those times himself. Just the memory of a memory.

A copy with the details lost.

A fake.

A lie.

There was a knock on the door.

Shiro curled in tighter, pulling the blanket up so it hung off his head like a hood. “Yes?”

The door opened, and Lance stepped inside. Next to him, a floating tray bobbed obediently after him like it was on a leash. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

Shiro stared at him. “Seriously?”

“Alright, bad wording. I meant how’s your head?”

Frowning, Shiro pulled the blanket in tighter. “Full of fake memories.”

“Oh, cut it out.” Lance sat down. “You’re being dense on purpose. Are you still in pain?”

Shiro sighed. “No,” he admitted. “Not from the headaches and the static. They’re all gone now.”

Glancing over, Lance pushed the tray closer to Shiro. “Anywhere else hurt?”

“Nothing physical.”

After one last tray nudge, Lance sighed. “You’re more honest than Shiro, at least. Now eat, okay? You’re not doing anyone any favors by starving.”

“You sure?” Shiro shot back. “If I starve, I can’t attack anyone. Really, there’s no reason not to kill me.”

Lance gave him a flat look. “If you try and starve then the Black Lion is just going to smash through the castle to get to you. Ditto if I shoot you.”

“Not likely. Black rejected me, remember?”

This time, Lance actually elbowed him. Shiro grunted with the impact. “I know a little something about lion rejection, okay? Black came for you. Black saved you. Clearly, he figured out something before the rest of us - which is fair - but if you were rejected, you’d get what I did. A shield.”

“Oh, Lance,” Shiro murmured, chest tight. “Blue didn’t reject you. The lions just made it work.”

Lance’s eyes shone brightly. “Yeah, see, this is how I know you’re you, even if you’re a clone. I’m trying to help you, and you’re turning it around and making it for me.”

Gaze darkening, Shiro looked away. “I’m not him.”

“You feel like you are,” Lance replied. “You still love us, right?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Shiro replied. “I’m not the one you relied on. I’m the one that tried to undermine Keith.” And god, did that hurt. He hadn’t even seen it. Now it was so obvious, how Keith had been hurt by his constant contradictions. All this time, Shiro’s own fears for his team had been turned into a way to wound them and take them apart.

They’d used his love for Keith to hurt him.

Shiro couldn’t think of anything worse.

“It does matter,” Lance shot back. “It matters that you fought for us. It hurt you to push through like that. We all saw it. And now that we know, we can’t be taken by surprise.”

“Not hard enough,” Shiro replied. “And like Keith said, I delayed you looking for the real Shiro. I have no idea where he would be. You should be focusing on that.”

Lance sighed. “I won’t say it doesn’t suck that Shiro is still gone, but we weren’t sparing every moment to search for him, either. We were keeping an eye and an ear about. But the universe comes first.”

It shouldn’t when Keith looked so devastated. But that was what the real Shiro would want, because he felt it too.

“I’ll help,” Shiro told him. “However I can.”

“Awesome. Step one is getting out of your room.”

Damn, he’d walked into that one.

Nodding, Shiro took a deep breath. “Good first step. I’ll get on that.”

Lance eyed him. “Actually, I take it back. New step one. Eat.”

Stomach rolling, Shiro made a face at the food. “I don’t think I can.”

“Try.” He lowered the tray into Shiro’s lap. When he took off the top, it was just space goo and water. Lance grinned at him. “Hey, if you can’t taste it, no reason not to go with the goo. It’s better for you.”

“It still has a gross texture,” Shiro pointed out, even as his lips reluctantly curled up. “But fair point.” He started to eat, glancing at Lance. “Why are you here?”

“Because you wouldn’t come out,” Lance said. “How else am I going to talk to you?”

“Now who’s being dense?”

Lance’s grin widened. “Still you. You fought for us. You care for us. No, you’re not the guy we know, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be a guy we like.”

Frowning, Shiro frowned, the spoon still hanging from his mouth. “I was sent here to hurt you. There’s no other reason Haggar would make me.”

“And you fought against that,” Lance replied. “Simple as that. They wanted something from you, and you decided not to. It hurt you, but you fought anyway. How is that different from escaping with the arm in the first place?”

The cracks in Shiro’s chest throbbed. “Okay,” he replied. “I see your point.” He started to eat again, working carefully through how hazed and watery his eyes were. “We probably need a new name for me, then.”

Lance paused, considering that. “Yeah, probably. You have any ideas?”

Cracking a bitter smile, he shook his head. “No. Can’t be Takashi. And I don’t want it to be Kuron. It’s-” He made a face. “It’s the Japanese word for clone. In that it’s the English word and we just use that.” We. They. Eugh. “I’d rather not be called ‘Clone’ forever.”

“That’s fair.” Lance made a face. “They named the project how you’d say clone in your own language? That’s sick.”

“Yeah,” Shiro agreed. “This whole thing is sick.” He looked down at his bare hand, flexing each finger one at a time.

“We’ll work on it,” Lance promised. “Think on it. You don’t get to name yourself often, right?”

Shiro managed another smile. “Right. I’ll bring this back to the kitchen after, alright?”

Taking the hint, Lance nodded. “Sure. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, you will.” Shiro watched Lance head to the door, then took a deep breath. “Hey, Lance?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

Lance’s eyes warmed again. “Whoever you choose to be, you’re a good guy. No thanks necessary. But you’re welcome.”

Smiling back, Shiro nodded as the door shut on him again.

Time to wake up.

***

“Um,” Shiro muttered. The word came out muffled as his cheeks were pressed together hard in Pidge’s small hands.

Barely glancing at his eyes, Pidge huffed. “Shh. I’m trying to see.”

Shiro started to ask what, but she scowled again, so he went obediently limp, letting her move his head around as she pleased. He had to reach out with his natural arm to keep his balance from the force of her. His metal arm hung limp and dead in a sling over his chest, threatening to yank him forward with its weight.

“It’s a perfect match,” Pidge pronounced, finally letting go. “I don’t know how they managed to get the scar exactly the same.”

Oh. Huh. “Haggar made herself look like m- like your Shiro once. An exact copy.” He frowned. “But I think I was made earlier than that. I guess they could have taken pictures? They knew they were cloning him.  I assume.”

Pidge nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe.” She squinted at him again. “How else are you different? The memories are it?”

“I don’t know,” Shiro replied. “Muscle memory is different. That’s why-” he gestured to his hair. “I couldn’t get this right.”

Eyes wide, Pidge nodded. “Oh. I thought it was on purpose.”

Shiro shrugged back. “Well, I didn’t know what else to say. I stopped thinking about it. Like all the clues.”

“That’s still so weird,” Pidge muttered. “I’m not denying it’s true. You couldn’t even hear the word clone, right? That wasn’t fake. You were scared.”

Lips pressed thin, Shiro straightened. “It was startling,” he replied, just a touch defensive.

Pidge rolled her eyes at him. “I’m not making fun of you. I’m noticing. We have a clone of Shiro! I want to learn more about it. It’s kind of cool.”

It’s.

It.

Shiro’s heart sank.

Something of that must have shown, because Pidge’s eyes immediately widened. “No, I meant- the process is cool. Cloning as a theory is fascinating. Not- sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Shiro replied. “It’s better than hating me. Maybe.” He considered. “While we’re inspecting me, should you… I don’t know, make a collar or something? Just in case?”

Pidge crinkled her nose. “You want me to literally leash you?”

“If it means I won’t hurt anyone, yes.”

Considering that, Pidge nodded. “I’ll think of something. Maybe not an actual collar. But we could actually put something on your neck, now. There’s, like, skin showing.” She waved off his embarrassed shifting. “Anyway, not important. I wanted to test for differences. We can put fine motor control under that umbrella.”

There was a cleared throat at the door. Shiro and Pidge both started and turned to see Allura there, holding two staffs in one hand. “Actually, I had some testing myself.”

It only took a moment for Shiro to figure out what she meant. Then he gestured to the dead metal arm in the sling. “Slight problem with that.”

“I’ll go easy on you.” Allura threw the staff his way. Shiro caught it, but almost immediately fumbled.  He only kept his grip by the tips of his fingers.

Would the real Shiro have been able to do that left handed?

Maybe. Maybe not.

Spinning the staff in his hands, Shiro considered Allura’s expression. Her face was stony and her eyes flat.

This wasn’t a request.

“Alright,” he agreed, resting the staff on his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“I guess I’ll keep track,” Pidge muttered. “Somehow I don’t think this is my kind of test at all.”

Shiro watched Allura’s back as they followed her down the hall. “Oh, this is a test, don’t you worry.”

Stepping into the training room, Allura turned, her staff extended. “Do not hold back on me.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Shiro replied. He held the staff loosely in the one hand, aware he wasn’t going to have the strength he needed to really use it. “I doubt I’ll land a hit on you anyway.”

Allura eyed him. “We’ll see.”

Then she struck.

Ducking the swipe, Shiro stepped out of her range, then started to circle. But she didn’t give him a chance, pushing her advantage of sheer strength (and two arms).

Despite everything, including how clumsy he’d been at first, Shiro was still fast. He ducked and weaved, trying to jab out when he could. But with only the one off arm, he couldn’t put any real force behind it.

Shiro knew this. He knew combat, knew the way the fight made his senses sharper and his mind faster.

Part of that was how he was - how being the Champion had made him - but part of that was pure mechanics.

He was built for this.

The next time Shiro tried to hit Allura, she caught the staff easily in the palm of her hand. The force of it didn’t even make her wince.

Which was fine, because Shiro hadn’t meant to hurt her with it.

Using their shared, strong grip on the staff, and the fact that Allura was now wielding hers at close range and with one hand, Shiro darted forward and kicked Allura in the stomach.

That was the first real grunt of pain he’d gotten from her. But then Allura threw one staff away, fast as a snake strike, and brought the other down on top of his head.

Stars erupted behind Shiro’s eyes. He tried to stumble away, but the staff blocked him in. He couldn’t dodge away again.

He’d tried a gambit on her, but he’d forgotten how  _ strong  _ Allura was.

A knee struck him in the stomach. Shiro coughed and swiped, but he automatically tried to use his right arm. Instead he jerked to a stop as it failed to move, and he was wide open for another staff strike to the side of the head.

Shiro went down.

Spinning the staff casually, Allura slammed it down just inches from his head. “If you try anything, you won’t win.”

“I know,” Shiro replied. “I only would have from a surprise attack.”

Allura nodded. “You are not Shiro, and I have no problems putting you down if I need to.”

The cracks jolted in his chest. “I know,” he repeated, quieter this time. “Both of those things.”

For a long moment, Allura stared him down. Then she offered her hand. “You pass.”

Shiro hesitated, nervous of further punishment. Finally, he reached out and took it, letting her help him get back on his feet. “Thank you,” he replied. “Though I’m not sure what I did.”

“You lost,” Allura replied. “You fought like yourself. You didn’t try to hide anything.” She arched her brows. “You didn’t try to hide how sneakily you fight.”

Ah. Shiro shrugged. “I have nothing to hide.” He paused. “No, I guess that’s not true. I’m hiding what the original hid. I won’t say I’ll never lie, because that’s just part of who I am. Who he is.” He sighed. “This is confusing.”

Allura finally smiled. “A little,” she agreed. “But if I can allow Ulaz on this ship, I think I can accept you too. He surprised me, after all.”

“I’m honored to accept that comparison,” Shiro replied honestly.

The smile faltered. “Don’t take it too much to heart,” Allura replied. “I’d like to see it end better this time.”

Shiro smiled in return. “I make no promises.”

Looking over his face, Allura’s expression fell. “I’ll ask you not to.”

Brows up, Shiro shrugged.

If the opportunity came, he was expendable. So why not?

“Of course, Princess,” he replied, which wasn’t an answer at all.

Allura looked over his face. “Just remember the effect you’ll have on the others.”

Well, Keith would be relieved, at least.

With a last nod to him, Allura retrieved the staffs. Then she paused in front of Pidge. “Did you want to test anything else?”

Pidge looked over at Shiro, taking in his battered form, then offered a thin smile. “Yeah. We’re going to test your memory for pop culture.”

“You want an excuse to watch movies?” Shiro guessed.

Huffing, Pidge shook her head. “Nope. An excuse to watch television shows. I have every version of Star Trek.”

Shiro stopped dead. He could feel his own excitement at the name, knew it was a show he loved, but he could only remember the barest details.

Well, why not remind himself?

“That sounds nice,” he admitted. Then he glanced over at Allura. “Want to join us?”

“You are going on a journey?” Allura asked, head tilted in confusion. “That doesn’t sound wise.”

Clapping a hand over his mouth to hide his smile, Shiro shook his head. “It’s a show. Most of it was written when humanity had barely reached our own moon. It has lots of made up alien species. You might find it fun.”

“It’s a good show,” Pidge replied. “Silly, but hopeful.”

Glancing between them both, Allura relaxed. “I’d like that,” she admitted. “It sounds entertaining.”

“C’mon, then,” Pidge replied. “We’ve got a lot of episodes to pick from.”

***

They got in about four episodes before the door to the rec room opened. Keith stepped through.

Immediately, Shiro stiffened under Keith’s furious look.

“What are you all doing?” Keith asked, his tone low and rough.

“Star Trek,” Pidge replied, voice bland in the face of Keith’s temper. Which was good, because Shiro honestly wanted to run away and hide rather than face Keith’s ire.

He deserved it. God, did he deserve it, even if it hadn’t been on purpose. Shiro had still hurt Keith, two nasty blows to his confidence and his heart.

“Sounds fun,” Keith replied darkly. “Glad you’re enjoying yourselves when Shiro is probably being tortured. Enjoying your time with the fake? Is it worth it?”

Sitting up, Allura frowned. “Keith,” she said, and her voice hardened the way she used to command.

It only now occurred to Shiro that she’d essentially accepted a demotion.

Brows up, Keith stared her down. “What? Are you going to tell me Shiro’s irreplaceable again?” His eyes cut over the couch. “Apparently not.”

“They were testing me,” Shiro replied. “Allura sparred me earlier, and Pidge was checking what I remember of a topic I used to know well.”

Both Allura and Pidge shot him bland looks for the blatant twist on the truth. But Shiro ignored that.

Keith’s problem was with him, not with them. He could take it out on Shiro like he deserved.

Snorting, Keith shook his head. “That’s still time we could have been looking for the real Shiro.”

“Are you really saying we’re never allowed to do anything but look for Shiro and fight the Galra?” Pidge asked. “Do I have to ask for permission for bathroom breaks now?” She looked at him over the top of her glasses, utterly unimpressed.

It struck Shiro, for the first time in this mind, how much she could look like Commander Holt when she wanted to.

Keith paused, but his eyes were still too bright and hurt.

“We will do everything in our power to look for him,” Allura replied. “We’ll continue the search. But there’s nothing we can do now that we haven’t already done. Our allies are still keeping an eye out. We can’t take the lions out and search every part of the entire universe. We want to find Shiro too, but that’s no reason to act like that’s all we can do with our lives.”

Taking a deep breath, Keith clenched his fights tight at his side. It was clear he knew they were telling the truth. He was just angry.

Better to give him a target.

“Look,” Shiro started, holding up his hand and stepping forward.

Immediately, Keith turned on him with ferocious intensity. “Going back to undermining me, now?”

Shiro winced and dropped his hand. “No. I didn’t know I was doing it, and I’m not going to anymore. Even if that means I can’t be in the bridge.” Shiro wasn’t 100 percent sure all of that had come from the arm. The constant, bubbling irritation had been, he was almost certain. But Shiro just couldn’t sit by and let Keith make calls he disagreed with. Now he might disagree with him less, and he understood why he should keep his mouth shut, but, well. Some things just came from him.

“Sure,” Keith replied, casually barbed. “Just like that.”

“No, not just like that. You know what a backseat driver I am,” Shiro shot back.

Keith’s eyes narrowed. “No. I know that  _ Shiro  _ is a backseat driver. I don’t know anything about you.”

Taking a deep breath, Shiro nodded. “You’re right. I’ve promised I won’t.”

“Fine,” Keith replied. “They get down time, sure. But you don’t. What have  _ you _ done to find Shiro?”

Staring, Shiro shook his head. “I told you everything I remember. I don’t know what else to do.”

Keith stared him down. “You better figure something out, then.”

That was definitely a threat.

Taking a deep breath, Shiro nodded. He shoved away the squirming discomfort in his chest at having Keith  _ hate _ him so blatantly. “You’re right. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Shiro-” Pidge started.

But Keith’s furious snort cut her off. “Don’t call him that.”

“He needs a name!” Pidge protested.

“He can’t have Shiro’s.”

Wincing, Shiro nodded. “I’m working on that too.”

Keith glared at him, and somehow seemed unsatisfied with the answer.

It occurred to Shiro that Keith was looking for a fight.

Really, Shiro should give it to him. He’d gone against Allura already today.

But Allura had just wanted to scare him. Keith wanted to hurt him. Both were hard to deal with, in their own way, but one of them was potentially damaging.

“Fine,” Keith snapped out. “Do your job.” And with that, he whirled and stalked back out the way he came.

Shiro flinched when the door slid shut with a clank.

“Shiro,” Allura murmured. “He’s just upset.”

Turning to face them, Shiro offered a smile. “He’s also right. I’m the reason you lost a few weeks of searching. The least I can do is do my part. He deserves to be home, and you deserve to have him back.”

Pidge looked over his face. “You’re allowed what any person is allowed,” she replied cautiously. “Including breaks.”

Three hours of Star Trek hardly counted as a fair break, but he understood her point. Shiro only gave a sickly smile. “Do we count me as a person?”

“Shiro!” Pidge protested.

“Keith’s right. I need a new name.” Taking a deep breath, Shiro started for the door. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

Now, Shiro just needed a plan.

And something new to call himself.

***

The Galra ship Shiro had taken was still sitting in the hangar nearest to the Black Lion. It was certainly beaten up after his escape, both from the fire he’d taken in the rush out and from the seven day journey of following Voltron.

All in all, it still functioned fine, though it needed some TLC.

That was what Shiro was working on when the doors opened.

“Oh,” Hunk murmured. He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. “Um, sorry to interrupt.”

Looking up from where he was elbow deep in the engine compartment, Shiro offered a smile. “Good afternoon. Were you looking for me, or here for the ship?”

Hunk pressed his lips thin. “The ship. What are you doing with it?”

It took a moment for Shiro to figure out why Hunk’s tone was off.

He was suspicious.

Ah. That- that made sense.

“Fixing it,” Shiro replied. “Or, well, tuning it up. It’d fly, but not for long. But mostly I’m making sure everything works. This wasn’t part of the clone plan, so we can assume it wasn’t tampered with. More than a normal one would be, anyway. So we might be able to pull up some frequencies on it.”

Hunk didn’t reply. He continued to watch, expression flat.

Sighing, Shiro went back to work.

After several second, Hunk’s footsteps walked closer. Shiro could feel him watching over his shoulder, but he ignored it as best he could.

But Shiro wasn’t good at letting things go, clone or not, so he glanced back. “Why did you need the ship?” He asked.

“I was going to take it apart,” Hunk replied. “Make sure there was nothing weird in it.”

Taking his hands out of the engine, Shiro grabbed the towel he’d draped over the casing and wiped his working hand clean. “Oh. Well, you’re free to do that. We can hook the radio up to something else. I was just going to let it record, anyway.”

Hunk frowned at him, eyes narrowed. “Why do you want to pick up on communications?”

“We don’t know if they have the real Shiro,” he replied, voice steady as he could manage. “If they mention something about Operation Kuron or Fugitive 117-9875, we’ll have an idea of what the Galra know.”

The hard stare didn’t waver at all. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because he doesn’t deserve to be with the Galra?” Shiro replied, brows up. “Because you all deserve to have the real Shiro back? Because Keith told me if I didn’t help I can’t stay?” He shrugged. “All three, really. The third just lit a fire under me.”

Hunk’s shoulders slumped. “Oh.” His eyes roamed over Shiro’s face, probably trying to read the truth of that. Shiro met his eyes easily, unafraid of what he’d find. He was telling the truth, after all. “It’s not a bad idea. I can just look in the programming rather than take it apart.” He eyed him. “You can’t do a lot one handed.”

“I can do enough,” Shiro replied. “It just needed tuning. I can do that with just my left.”

Brows up, Hunk nodded. “Don’t let me stop you.”

It was the same tone that Allura had used to test him, so Shiro nodded back. He didn’t know what this was supposed to prove, but it was what he was doing anyway.

Part of him wondered how many tests he would need to pass to stop getting suspicious glances.

The answer was probably ‘always one more’.

Why would they trust him? He was a sleeper agent. Who knew if turning off the arm really fixed him.

Ducking his head, Shiro got back to work.

Hunk just watched for a long time. It was like working with an instructor from the Garrison again - at least, the stressful times he remembered talking about. Shoulders set, Shiro focused entirely on what he was doing. Working with just one hand really was difficult, but for the most part he was just taking readings and refilling or oiling what needed done.

“You actually know what you’re doing,” Hunk replied. He didn’t sound pleased.

Shiro’s brows rose. “Of course,” he replied carefully. “This is more advanced than the ship we took to Kerberos, but not more complex.”

That seemed to surprise Hunk. “You knew how to repair that?”

The question was such a shock that Shiro laughed. “Yes. Flying there and back was my job. Sure, Commander Holt and Matt would have helped. Matt probably could have built the ship himself if he had time. But flying back and forth and knowing the ship was my job. Their job was the samples. I wouldn’t have been allowed to sit in that cockpit just to ooh and aah if I hadn’t known it backward and forwards.”

“Oh.” Hunk considered that. “Lance and Keith don’t know anything about engines.”

“They didn’t get to the classes where they make you learn emergency repairs,” Shiro replied, finally relaxing as well. That’s what was bothering him, then. Knowledge he seemingly shouldn’t have.  “I’m no engineer, certainly. But if I went down somewhere, they sure as hell wanted me to be able to do a basic fix-up job if it meant coming back home or not.”

Nodding again, Hunk leaned against the hull. “That makes sense. I can’t verify it myself, though.”

“Ask Pidge,” Shiro replied. “Matt used to make fun of how long I took doing tune-ups. He might have complained to her.”

Hunk smiled. “I’ll do that.” Some of the tension seemed to drain out of him. “You get that this is weird, right?”

“Repairing a Galra drone fighter? Sure.” Shiro looked up and smiled at Hunk’s scowl. “Yes. It’s weird. It’s weird from my side too.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Everything in my head is fake. The relationships I have with all of you, my memories, my name. I’m a copy, and not a great one, either. So I get it. I’d struggle to trust me. I’m not sure I would get there.”

“You’re doing a decent job of convincing me,” Hunk replied honestly. “It’s weird seeing you be so upfront.”

Smiling bitterly, Shiro sighed. “I always thought I did a better job of hiding myself. Or, he did, anyway. Now both you and Lance have called me on it. It sucks, actually.”

Hunk snorted. “We saw the cracks. You- he was never really as fine as he said he was. But we got why he did it.”

“That tracks. You should tell him that when you find him.”

For a long moment, Hunk was silent. “You really think he’s out there?”

Pausing, Shiro took a deep breath. “I think- I don’t know. We think I got the memories from my- his arm, but are we sure I didn’t get it from the source? But if they know Shiro might still be out there, would they send me in and risk being found out?” He considered carefully. “There’s reasons to think so on both sides. But there was more to that fight that I don’t remember. Getting the bayard back is my last memory before waking up. The blazing sword, all of that? I had no idea. That says to me that they don’t have the real Shiro, because they would have all of his memories. There’s got to be more to the story, and what Keith thought - that the Black Lion teleported him away - is still likely. I don’t  _ feel  _ like he died. But maybe that’s denial.”

Hunk nodded. “It was easier when we thought he was dead,” he admitted, voice small. “That whatever Zarkon did just… it was the end. What else would have happened to him? We could mourn, we could deal with it, and we could keep going. Thinking he’s out there and maybe… maybe starving, like you almost did. Maybe he’s trapped. I don’t know. What are the chances he ended up somewhere a human can survive?  I started to calculate it but...”  He closed his eyes and swallowed hard.  “Thinking he survived was so much worse.”

“There’s no closure,” Shiro agreed. “But I can’t stop trying. I wouldn’t, even if it wasn’t a condition of my staying here. If he’s dead, then we get proof and that’s that. Now we know. If he’s alive, you get him back.”

Swallowing hard, Hunk took a deep breath. “You know Keith can’t really decide to kick you out, right? It’s Allura’s castle, not his. Even if he’s the Black Paladin now.”

Shiro smiled. “I know. But I think it’s a reasonable condition. Why else keep me around?”

“Because you’re a person,” Hunk replied.

Shiro’s smile just got sadder. “Kind of.”

Pain flashed over Hunk’s face. “Hey. That’s not- there’s no reason you’re not a person.”

“I was created in a lab a year ago, probably to kill you or to be the subject of some kind of experiment,” Shiro replied, voice utterly flat. “I’m essentially one of Haggar’s robeasts. I’m lucky I’m too small to be run through by Voltron’s sword.”

Hunk continued to stare. Finally, he set his shoulders. “We accepted the Blade of Marmora. We accepted Ulaz. If a robeast ever tried to fight Haggar’s control and stay on our side, we’d take them in a heartbeat. And all of you deserve to be respected and have a place to stay.”

Blinking, Shiro frowned at him. “You think I should stay with the Blade?”

“No,” Hunk replied, rolling his eyes. “I think you should treat yourself as more than a science project, either for Haggar or us. I think you should be consider yourself a person, even if it’s not the person you thought.”

Closing his eyes, Shiro let out a sigh. “There’s two people I think I am. One is Shiro, the other is Haggar’s mole. What else is there? These are the memories I have. This is the place I know. That’s it. What else am I?”

“Anything else in the universe.” Hunk gestured toward the hull of the castle. “There’s millions upon billions of ways to be out there. The alternate universe proved that. You can have the same background and still be different. You can still be yourself.”

“I just can’t be Shiro.”

Hunk winced. “You can be Shiro somewhere else.”

That wasn’t what Shiro wanted, but that didn’t matter. He was the fake. He didn’t get first choice.

It didn’t make it less bitter tasting. This was his family. This was his home. These were the relationships he’d built and the people he wanted to watch over and keep safe.

What else was there in the universe? Where could he be where he wasn’t taking up someone else’s space? In the end, he was still a fake wearing someone’s face.

Suddenly, Hunk’s hand came down on his shoulder. “I’m about to hug you now. Tell me if I should stop.”

“I-” Shiro looked up just as Hunk wrapped him in his arms.

It was…

He was warm and solid, in a way that made Shiro feel like he was burning. He reached his good arm around, holding Hunk back as well as he could manage.

“You don’t hug like Shiro,” Hunk told him. “Even taking the arm into account. But it’s still a good hug.”

Closing his eyes, Shiro nodded into Hunk’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

Hunk patted his back. “It’s just the truth. Now, c’mon, if you help me out checking these systems over then I’ll help you get this ship in top shape.”

“Sounds good.” Shiro pulled back. “I’m happy to help. It’s been awhile since I did so much mechanical work, and the arm doesn’t help, but I’m willing to give it a shot.”

“It’s fine,” Hunk replied. “I was going to make you do all the oily stuff.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

Hunk’s grin made it worth it, though.

***

“Really, if we’re going to do this, we should just gut your arm completely,” Hunk said. He kept a gamely straight face as Coran passed out bowls of space goo.

Shiro shrugged. “I’m not sure it’s worth the trouble. And, honestly, why even risk keeping the casing? Who knows what’s part of it. If we’re going to take it off, it should be all of it.”

Sighing, Hunk nodded. “Even a rudimentary prosthetic would be better than letting you tug around that dead weight. It can’t be good for you.”

“Having an active, brainwashing arm is probably net worse.”

Hunk groaned. “True. Still. I’m thinking long term.”

Brows up, Shiro shrugged. “Why? Feel free to make plans, but we don’t know I’ll survive long. Do we think Haggar made her clones with longevity in mind?”

“Zarkon lived ten thousand years with Quintessence,” Allura pointed out. She leaned on the table to better hear the conversation. “I think most of her plans are long term.”

True enough. Shiro inclined his head at that. Despite himself, his eyes tracked to the empty seat next to Allura.

Keith hadn’t shown.

Guilt twisted in his stomach. Keith shouldn’t have to go hungry in his own home just because Shiro was here.

Glancing at Lance, Shiro nodded to the empty chair. Following the gesture, Lance gave him a little nod of understanding. He’d bring him food, like he had for Shiro.

That had to be enough for now. Shiro going and telling him to come to dinner wasn’t going to help anyone.

“We can probably just pull off what’s there, put a cap on it, and then rig something up,” Pidge replied. “We can’t remove all of it, because it’s not exactly made to come off. But if we had a cover to hold the… um, biological bits, then we could at least take off the elbow down. Then we can attach something with a clamp or basic fingers, at least.”

Looking down at the metal arm, Shiro nodded. “It’d be nice to have my dominant arm back, honestly.”

“We’ll look into it,” Hunk said. “Right now, you having that thing weighing you down is bad for everyone. I’ll feel better when we don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

Sitting down, Coran gestured to his bowl. “I’m not sure this is appropriate dinner conversation. All this discussion of taking arms and nervous systems. Puts me off my goo.”

Lance crinkled his nose at the bowl. “Good,” he muttered. Then he yelped as Coran casually smacked his hand with a spoon.

“Fine, a different topic,” Allura confirmed. “Have you given thought to how you’d like to be addressed?”

Shiro froze. “I- some,” he admitted. “I’m blanking on names that aren’t anyone I know, though. Especially Japanese ones.” He frowned at his bowl. “I can barely speak the language anymore, much less list off names.”

“Oh.” Hunk’s shoulders slumped. “I hadn’t thought of that. There’s a lot you don’t remember about your culture.”

Managing a smile, Shiro shrugged. “There was a lot I didn’t remember anyway. We moved when I was fairly young.”

“That still sucks,” Lance replied. “Um, well. We can help, I guess.”

Pidge raised her spoon. “Why not Kuro?”

“Not Kuron,” Lance immediately replied, his gaze darting to Shiro. “It’s just saying clone.”

Shaking her head, Pidge took another mouthful. “No, Kuro. No ‘n’ sound. Shiro means white, and Kuro means black. It’s close sounding, but it has meaning.”

It was still close to Kuron, though, which wasn’t exactly comforting. “That could work,” Shiro admitted. “It’s not really what I was thinking.”

“Ryou.”

They all paused and glanced toward the door. Keith stepped through, not quite looking at anyone else. He took his seat and snagged a bowl.

Allura tilted her head. “What’s the significance of that name?”

Pausing, Keith frowned. “I don’t know what it means,” he admitted.

“Cool,” Shiro replied, before he even caught his mouth moving. “Or distant. Or reality. Depends on how it’s written.” He blinked, surprised at himself. Somehow, he remembered knowing the name’s meaning, without any of the context.

Keith finally looked at him, expression blank. “You remember?”

Shiro shook his head. “Just the definition. I wouldn’t have thought of it at all if you hadn’t brought it up. Why Ryou?”

“Shiro was supposed to have a twin,” Keith replied. “I guess you wouldn’t remember that. The other one didn’t survive the pregnancy. His name was supposed to be Ryou.”

That-

He was supposed to have a twin?

No, the other Shiro. The real one, who knew and remembered that. This Shiro could have twins, or triplets, or whatever someone called fellow clones, but he was pretty sure none of them had survived.

“That sounds very personal,” he admitted. “It’s a good name.” Distant- a distant counterpart, a clone. Reality- a version of him that existed in a different way, like the alternate reality Sven. Cool - well, that one not so much, but he kind of liked it.

Keith shrugged. “I don’t know if Shiro would hate it. But it’s better than calling you Shiro.”

Considering, Shiro chewed it over. He didn’t remember the context. Didn’t know if the would-be Ryou had bothered or haunted the original Shiro. It was hard to tell if he’d hate it or not.

But he needed a name.

“Ryou is nice,” he admitted. “I’d prefer that to Kuro, I think. I don’t want to be… opposite-Shiro. Anti-Shiro. I’m different, with a similar background.”

“Treating you like a twin makes sense, then,” Hunk replied. “Makes the same face thing a little less creepy.”

Pidge shrugged. “Yeah. The hair is different, and the clothes are different, but the face is basically the same. Even the scar.”

Leaning back in his chair, Lance shrugged. “Depends on how you want to think of yourself,” he replied. “Up to you.”

Shi- Ryou nodded slowly. “It works,” he replied. “I like it.” He cracked a grin. “I finally don’t have to go by that nickname anymore.”

Lance’s brows jumped as he straightened up. “You didn’t like Shiro?”

“I don’t really like nicknames,” Ryou replied. “Never did. But it’s the military, so it was inevitable. I just wanted to avoid something like ‘Spike’ or ‘Ace’ or anything awful like that. When my scores started getting noticed- you know, they have it inputted by your name, first five letters of your last name, period, first three of your first. So when someone checked the scores they’d ask, ‘Who’s Shiro.Tak?’ And I raised my hand, so the name Shiro stuck. It was the best mid ground.”

All of them but Keith stared at him. “We’ve been calling Shiro by a nickname he doesn’t like this whole time?”

Allura’s mouth fell open. “Shiro isn’t his name?”

Barking out a laugh, Ryou shrugged. “It’s fine. Everyone uses it. I don’t m- He doesn’t mind it. Whichever. But now I don’t have to bother anymore.”

Pidge looked him over, eyes bright. “You being honest is suddenly opening up a whole new world of possibilities.”

“I don’t remember much, sorry,” Ryou replied. “Ask him when we get him back.”

Finally, Keith looked up, and there was just a hint of warmth to his expression. “You think we will?”

Meeting his gaze, Ryou smiled softly. “Yeah. I do.”

A smile pulled at Keith’s lips. He ducked his head and started to eat to hide it.

But Ryou had seen.

He couldn’t fill the same space Shiro had. But maybe he could still have a family, here.

***

“Hey, Lance.”

Pausing with his hand up to open his door, Lance turned over. “Hey, what’s up?”

Ryou held up the bag in his hand. “Can you help me with something?”

Lips curling up, Lance shrugged dramatically and leaned against his door. “What’s in it for me?” He teased.

“I’ll help you with your pick-up lines.”

Lance froze, eying Ryou. “What? You’re  _ encouraging _ them?”

“Hey, I’m not your team leader anymore. Never was. And, honestly? They’re awful. They’re  _ bad. _ You get a better chance of actually hooking someone, and I don’t have to hear it anymore. And I get a favor.” Ryou waggled the bag. “Yes or no?”

For a moment, Lance tilted his head. Then he nodded and stepped over, elbowing him playfully. “You better have damn good material, my man. Better than ‘your body is out of this world.’

Ryou groaned. “Yeah, no worries there. C’mon, I’d like to get this done before it’s too late.” He led Lance down the hall into the bathroom, and smirked at his eager exclamations.

***

The next morning, he emerged from his room with bleached white hair and the bangs clipped down to only slightly longer than the rest of it.

When Allura saw it, she smirked. “Looking for beauty tips from the more advanced race?” She ran her fingers through her own white locks.

“Nope,” Ryou replied cheerfully. “I figure there’s a good chance I don’t make it a year, so why not be the white-haired anime character I know I am in my heart.”

Allura’s expression fell. “What?”

“Dweeb,” Pidge called, face deep in a mug of space coffee.

Ryou only shrugged back. Really, Pidge was one to talk.

When Keith stepped in that morning, he did a full triple take at Ryou’s hair.

Which really made the burning scalp worth it.

***

The shuttle hatch opened, revealing two figures. The shorter leaned against the taller, trying to disguise his slight limp. They were both very human and very familiar.

“Matt!” Pidge surged forward, nearly tackling her brother off his feet. The pair of them clung tightly, babbling in equally incomprehensible, 500 words a minute exclamations.

Shiro smiled at them fondly, and then at the rest of the team. “Hey. Good to finally see you-” he froze.

Raising his Altean prosthetic, Ryou gave a little wave. “Hey.”

“Um.” Shiro stumbled forward, walking carefully past the Holt-pile. “What?”

Ryou flapped a hand. “Don’t mind me. Say hi to everyone. They missed you.”

That seemed to snap Shiro back into focus. He held out his arm, and was immediately grabbed in a hug by Keith, followed shortly after by Lance and Hunk in one single, crushing squeeze, and then a much gentler one from Allura. Only then did he look over at Ryou again. “Who is he?”

“Your clone,” Keith replied. “Haggar sent him, we think. But we fixed it.”

“It,” Ryou drawled. “Thanks.”

“You know what I meant.”

Shiro looked between them, face pale. “Haggar made clones of me?”

“If it helps, I’m pretty sure I’m the only one that survived,” Ryou replied. He stepped forward and offered his natural hand. “I’ve been going by Ryou.” He paused. “Unless that ends up really offending you, in which case we’ll start over.”

Staring at the hand, Shiro glanced back at the rest of the team. They all nodded, even Keith. “I- no, I’m not offended. That’s… That’s actually kind of nice. Weird, but not bad.” He took the hand and shook. “Ryou. Okay. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Ryou replied. “You guys have your reunion. I’ll go keep an eye on the sensors. Maybe give Matt and Pidge the room, though?”

Shiro nodded. “Good call.” He glanced back, at where they seemed to be trading stories, but they were asking and answering questions in such rapid-fire, choked voices that Ryou couldn’t understand a word. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“You bet,” Lance replied.

“It’s good to have you back,” Keith agreed, smiling softly. It was the kind of expression Ryou would never get, but he was learning to be okay with that- Shiro was basically the only one who got it, and he just wasn’t Shiro.

Shiro smiled back, expression soft and warm. “It’s good to be back.”

Following behind the group, Ryou considered them.

He’d expected to feel lonely, when this moment finally came. To know the space he wanted was officially filled, sorry, we don’t need your resume anymore.

But he wasn’t.

Ryou wasn’t Shiro. He had his own place here, helping with the mechanics of any ships they got, coordinating all the different planets in their coalition, and overseeing training. Ryou couldn’t be a paladin. Black still barely responded to him, and then only as ‘not-mine’, which was rude. That was off the table completely, and it freed up a lot of options he wouldn’t have considered or wanted otherwise.

It wasn’t the life Shiro wanted. But it was the life Ryou was good with.

This was his home, this was his family.

Now it was time to see if he got along with his twin or not.

Ryou was looking forward to finding out.

**Author's Note:**

> The way the mental block works (and one line) are inspired by The Adventure Zone, so if you find this concept interesting, I highly suggest you check it out!


End file.
